


Death Takes a Working Holiday

by MiraMira



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Day At The Beach, Gen, Humor, Silly, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraMira/pseuds/MiraMira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who says you shouldn't mix business with pleasure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Takes a Working Holiday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [possibilityleft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy this little bit of silliness, possibilityleft!

“Are you _quite_ sure about this seaside holiday?” asked Susan, a copy of the  Ankh-Morpork Times clutched under one arm as she watched her grandfather toss a dizzying succession of questionably useful items into a suitcase.

Death stopped packing for a moment and turned to face her, drawing himself up to his full height. IF YOU ARE SUGGESTING THAT I MIGHT...FORGET MYSELF, I HAVE TAKEN PRECAUTIONS. BESIDES, YOU WILL KNOW WHERE TO FIND ME.

“That's not what I'm saying at all,” Susan insisted. “It's just...the timing might not be ideal.”

SURELY YOUR YOUNG MAN CAN PROVIDE ASSISTANCE WITH THAT.

The scar on Susan's cheek briefly stood out against a deep field of pink before she rolled her eyes. “I didn't mean for _me_. Here.” She handed him the newspaper and pointed at one of the headlines below the front-page fold. “See for yourself.”

Death scanned the article. Somehow, without any movement or other perceptible change in expression, his perpetual grin widened.

_“Ah,”_ said Susan. “Well, then. Will you be taking Binky with you?”

-

“What did I tell you?” boomed Mustrum Ridcully, slapping the Professor of Cruel and Unusual Geography, who had the misfortune to be the nearest Unseen University staff member within reach, on the shoulder for emphasis. “A change of scenery was just the thing for this year's faculty retreat, eh?”

“Yes, Archchancellor,” said Rincewind, wincing and wondering yet again if it was worth asking Ponder Stibbons for a more effective anti-sunburn charm. “If you'll excuse me, though, I'd like to get back to get back to my towel.”

“Suit yourself.” The Archchancellor tapped his staff on the ground, transforming it into a harpoon. “I intend to go kraken-hunting.”

Rincewind watched him charge toward the surf, shaking his head. He'd calculated the minimum safe distance from the water in case of a storm surge, of course, and didn't plan to venture any closer. Still, as long as he stayed surrounded by nice, soft sand, he had to admit that maybe Ridcully had a point. He certainly didn't _miss_ his days of adventuring, but there was something to be said for leaving the sameness and dubious security of the university for a small, carefully controlled period of time. Why, he could almost feel himself beginning to unwind just the tiniest bit.

HAVING FUN?

“Yes, actually, I--” Rincewind looked up and froze in mid-sentence as he registered the speaker. A strangled yelp forced its way free from his throat, followed by a bloodcurdling shriek.

At the noise, Rincewind's colleagues turned. They stared. Then they, too, began to scream.

As the wizards ran pell-mell from anything and everything that might possibly harm them, Death sidled up to the nearest refreshment stand, attempting to catch the attention of its bemused and suddenly far less busy bartender. I SHOULD LIKE A DRINK, PLEASE. SOMETHING WITH A TINY UMBRELLA IN IT.


End file.
